


The Ink Demonth 2020

by phantomthief_fee



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, Body Horror, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 15,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25556281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomthief_fee/pseuds/phantomthief_fee
Summary: My contributions to @halfusek's Ink Demonth for 2020.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	1. Cake

So, this is organized by @halfusek, and the list of prompts is [here](https://halfusek.tumblr.com/post/622464380803629056/something-inky-this-way-comes-the-ink-demonth). 

First day and the prompt is cake!

Takes place in my Chaos universe

* * *

Jack was making a cake. 

It was the one year anniversary of the former employees escaping from the studio and he’d wanted to do something special for it. Sammy and Grant had volunteered to help, and so the three of them were in the kitchen together. Sammy was helping because he’d found he liked baking and Grant was helping because he knew how to keep kosher. Meanwhile, Henry was out with some of the Muslim former employees to find some halal options so that everyone could enjoy a special treat. 

The kitchen was mostly quiet as the three of them worked. They didn’t need to speak to communicate directions to each other. The silence was comfortable for all three of them, punctuated only by Sammy and Jack humming back and forth between each other.

“It’s really been a year, huh?” Jack said once the cake was in the oven. 

Sammy and Grant both echoed sentiments of agreement. 

The three of them sat down at the kitchen table, looking at each other and at the kitchen around them. 

“Part of me is still scared I’ll wake up in the studio and it’ll all be a dream,” Sammy admitted with a weary smile. 

“Honestly, me too.” Grant said. Jack moved his chair closer to Grant, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

Although they were all doing better now, they still had yet to completely put the trauma of the studio behind them. It _had_ only been a year, after all.

“So, are you working on anything new?” Grant asked, looking at Sammy. “Jack told me he’s been writing some new lyrics.”

“Jack writing lyrics doesn’t mean _I’m_ writing something,” Sammy pointed out.

“True, but we do usually work together,” Jack fired back with a smile. “Especially since neither of us are actually being paid to write.”

Sammy leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. “….Fair.”

“So?” Grant gestured for him to continue. “What is it?”

“Well…Susie’s scared of getting back into singing, so…I thought I’d write something for her,” Sammy said after a long pause. “Something special.”

Grant couldn’t help but smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Yes, well, I try.” Sammy cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to ignore how warm his face was getting. 

He knew how much singing had meant to Susie. It had been her whole life. Now, she was afraid of her own voice. It hurt to see her reject something she’d loved so much.

“How is your…sudoku going?” Sammy asked, eager to get the conversation off of himself. 

“Rather well,” Grant replied. 

Although being _asked_ to do math gave Grant a panic attack, he still found math comforting. Hence, the solution had been to supply him with math puzzles. He’d also taken up sudoku, which made Norman and Wally joke about how Grant was turning into an old man. 

“He’s going through the books so fast Henry can hardly keep up.” Jack elbowed Grant with a huge grin.

“Joey always did say you dreamed in numbers,” Sammy muttered without thinking.

They all briefly stiffened at the mention of Joey, but it didn’t last long. Joey could no longer hurt them. 

“That’s one thing Joey was right about,” Grant laughed softly. “I do find myself dreaming about math processes.” 

“I hear him muttering about equations in his sleep.” Jack laughed as well.

Sammy dramatically rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a loud sigh. “I’ll never understand you logical types.”

“And I’ll never understand you creative types,” Grant shot back with an amused smile.

Sammy let out another dramatic sigh, although he was smiling as well.

This peace felt good. He knew he’d told Henry before, but he didn’t think he’d ever stop being grateful for Henry saving them and giving them this place to stay.

They were happier now.

And they were going to eat some cake.


	2. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter does get a bit dark

Memories could be both a blessing and a curse. 

Cordelia knew this very well. 

After her parents had died, the memories of them had tormented her. The littlest things would call up memories that would send her into a crying fit. Roy humming in the same way their father had while fixing his coffee, turning on the radio only to hear the station her mother would listen to while she’d sewed.So many little things that reminded her that they were no longer there. Roy kept his emotions bottled up, so it was harder to tell what he was truly feeling, but Cordelia knew he struggled with similar problems. 

It got easier as the years went by. The sting of the loss faded and the siblings were able to enjoy the memories of their parents once more, although there were still occasions that reminded them of their absence. Cordelia and Roy grew, moving past their trauma and grief and going on with their lives.

And then the employees of Joey Drew Studios had disappeared.

Cordelia had already been reeling from trauma of seeing the man she admired most disposing of the body of his best friend, and the disappearance of all her friends had sent her over the edge.

The nightmares and constant anxiety she’d had after Susie’s disappearance came back in full force. She kept going over her last conversations with them, wishing she’d properly said goodbye. Especially Sammy…

The uncertainty of their fates only made things worse. She remembered what had happened to Jack and she knew Joey was capable of much worse than murder. Her mind was overwhelmed with the terrible possibilities of what could have happened to her friends.

Which was what led to her going back to the studio. 

Things only got worse when she decided to do that. 

Because when Cordelia returned to the studio, she encountered the creature who was once Sammy Lawrence. The memory of the monster Sammy had been turned into haunted her nightmares for years afterwards. Especially the memory of that grinning skeletal visage as he forced her head under the ink.

Eventually, Cordelia was able to move past this too, and remember the happy times she’d had at the studio with her friends, and with Sammy. It took a lot of therapy and time, but the psychological wounds did fade.

Although…the memory of that monster never _truly_ left her mind.


	3. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a lighter chapter this time around

Joey Drew Studios had a bit of a problem with employees overworking themselves.

It was a rather common sight to find employees passed out at their desk or being dragged to the infirmary by their exasperated coworkers. The most egregious offenders of this were Henry, Sammy, and Bertram.

Each department had a specific person who was in charge of carting their specific workaholic off to the infirmary when they collapsed. For the Bendyland crew, that responsibility fell on Lacie, since she was the only one strong enough to carry Bertram. Wally, Ms. Lambert, and occasionally Tom took care of Henry. And, being primarily based in the music department, Norman was the one most often responsible for dragging Sammy to the infirmary. 

Which was exactly what he was about to do. 

Norman was sitting in his projection booth, staring down at the assembled band members. They’d just finished a rehearsal and were still hanging around and talking with one another. Norman couldn’t help but smile as he watched them mill about. There was something comforting about seeing such a calm scene.

“Uh, Norman?” He looked up upon hearing Wally’s voice. The janitor was leaning against the doorway leading to the projection booth. He didn’t look out of breath or upset, so he probably hadn’t been yelled at again. 

“Yeah?” Norman asked. “Need something?”

“Sammy fell asleep at his desk again and Jack needs help gettin’ him down to the infirmary,” Wally said, jerking his thumb back in the direction of Sammy’s office. He looked like he was holding back laughter.

Norman sighed and shook his head, smiling fondly. “Alright. I’ll get on it.”

“Thanks!” Wally did a mock salute and scampered off, presumably to drag Henry to the infirmary.

Norman left his booth, making his way down to Sammy’s office. Sure enough, when he entered the office he found Jack attempting to drag an incredibly sleep-deprived Sammy away from his desk. It was honestly pretty hilarious given that Sammy was quite literally digging his heels in and clinging to his desk in an attempt to prevent being taken away.

“Come on, Sammy, you need to rest,” Jack grunted. 

“No! I have work to do!” Sammy whined, digging his fingernails into the desk. 

“Need some help?” Norman asked, stifling a snort of laughter. 

“Yeah.” Jack smiled sheepishly, finally letting go of Sammy. 

Sammy, upon being so abruptly let go, yelped and fell to the ground. Norman took this opportunity to scoop Sammy up and throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He then began to head for the infirmary.

“This isn’t fair!” Sammy protested, weakly struggling against the much stronger man. “You’re ganging up on me!”

“You need to rest, Sammy,” Jack said as he followed along behind Norman. “You’ve pulled two all-nighters in a row this week.”

“You and Henry, honestly,” Norman sighed. “If we didn’t stop you, you two would work yourselves to death.”

“We would not!”

“I kind of think you would,” Jack said.

Sammy grumbled, going limp and just allowing himself to be carried to the infirmary.

Once in the infirmary, Sammy was wrapped up in a blanket burrito and placed on a cot beside the already asleep Bertram and Henry.

“I don’t need this,” Sammy pouted. Already, though, his eyes were beginning to flutter.

“Sure you don’t.” Jack patted Sammy’s head.

He was asleep a few minutes later.


	4. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had to be Joey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my version of Joey, who I have nicknamed Freckle

Joey Drew was in denial about a lot of things.

It was a symptom of his stubborn nature. Once he got an idea in his head, it was very hard to change his line of thinking. Especially when it involved him being wrong. He seemed allergic to admitting he was wrong.

He’d denied that his parents had loved him. 

He’d denied that his studio was failing. 

He’d denied that he needed help to run his studio.

He’d denied that his quest for perfection had driven away everyone who loved him.

And where had that denial gotten him?

His studio was in ruins, his friends had been turned into monsters by his own hand, and he was trapped within the body of the creature he’d rejected due to its imperfection. 

And his bitter feelings and poor decisions continued to haunt him even in this limbo he’d found himself, as Bendy unfortunately seemed to have adopted Joey’s bitter feelings as his own.

In absorbing Joey’s body and soul, Bendy had gained access to the thoughts and memories of the man who had essentially stolen him from his creator. Lacking any concrete experiences of his own, the little demon had taken Joey’s thoughts and experiences as fact.

Hearing his best friend’s beloved creation echoing back his own poisonous words was almost more than Joey could handle. He’d tried to convince Bendy that he’d been wrong in their shared mental space, but the little demon wouldn’t listen.

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Bendy always insisted. “I’ve seen your memories! You were right!”

“Memories aren’t absolute,” Joey shot back. “They can be influenced by your own perceptions and biases.” God knew _his_ certainly were.

“No! You were right!” Bendy stamped his foot like the child he was. “You _have_ to be right!”

And that was always the end of the conversation.

Bendy refused to listen to anything else Joey might have to say, storming out of the mind space and leaving Joey by himself in the darkness once more, forced to watch as the creation he’d rejected tormented the friends he’d pushed away.

This was where his denial had gotten him.

The words of his friends echoed in his mind over and over, again and again, telling him all the things he wished he’d listened to.

He needed help.

He needed someone to end this.

He needed _**Henry**_.


	5. Bendy Royale

Today’s prompt is Bendy Royale, and I had a bit of trouble thinking of a story for this.   
But I did have a drawing idea. 

_**“My, what do we have here? Another sacrifice for my Lord?”** _

I thought it would be fun to draw the updated version of the Prophetess as a fighting game character in that vein.


	6. Instrument

If there was something Sammy hadn’t expected to be doing, it was teaching a Boris how to play the banjo. But somehow this Boris had managed to summon him to his little safehouse and had given him shelter and safety and, well, teaching the Boris to play the banjo was a small price to pay for that.

The two of them were sitting at the table beside the stove, Sammy in one chair and the Boris on the other. 

“Shift your fingers a bit,” Sammy instructed. “You’ll have to do some compensating to make up for missing a finger.”

The Boris nodded, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he tried to follow Sammy’s direction. His attempts thus far had been clumsy at best, but he was doing surprisingly well.

“Good. Now try out the chords I showed you before.”

The Boris nodded again, attempting the chords. Once more, it was clumsy, but surprisingly good. The notes were still recognizable as what the Boris was trying to play. He looked up when he was finished, his expression expectant. 

“You’re making good progress,” Sammy said.

The Boris beamed, putting the banjo aside and throwing himself onto Sammy in a big hug.

“Yes yes, you’re welcome.” Sammy rolled his eyes but returned the hug with a small smile. 

The Boris was a very affectionate creature, something that had been rather uncomfortable for Sammy at first. He hadn’t been used to physical affection anymore and someone showing him physical affection had put him on edge. 

He was getting used to it once more though, so these random hugs no longer made him reach for his ax. And it felt…nice to be given physical affection again. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

After a minute or two, the Boris pulled away, still beaming. 

“Why don’t we take a break in our lessons for the moment?” Sammy suggested. “You’ve made a lot of progress and you deserve a reward for it.”

If the Boris had had a tail, it would have been wagging. 

“Unfortunately, all I can offer for a reward is soup, though,” Sammy said apologetically. “So, I’ll go get you some.”

He started to rise in order to retrieve a can of soup for the Boris, but he was stopped by a hand on his arm. 

“What?” Sammy asked, looking over at the Boris. “Would you like something else?”

The Boris nodded, holding the banjo up to Sammy.

“I don’t….understand.”

The Boris pointed to Sammy, then pointed to the banjo. 

“You…want me to play?” Sammy asked slowly.

The Boris nodded again. Sammy instinctively stiffened. He’d attempted to play the banjo a few times after first waking up in his current inky state and it…hadn’t ended well. 

“I…I can’t.” Sammy shook his head, attempting to pull away.

The Boris’ ears drooped and he let out a quiet whine.

“It’s…It’s not going to work,” Sammy said, hunching his shoulders. “I’ve tried. And…I failed every time.”

The Boris whined again, giving Sammy a pleading look as he held the banjo out. He was really turning on the puppy dog eyes. Sammy could feel his resolve crumbling.

“Very well,” he sighed, taking the banjo. “I’ll try one more time.” He sat down, closed his eyes, and began to play. 

And it worked. 

Somehow…it worked. 

He was able to play for the first time since becoming an ink creature, and it made his heart soar. For a moment, he was human again, playing for someone he genuinely cared about.

The Boris listened, smiling softly and leaning on the table as he watching the suddenly much more human Sammy play his banjo. It was good to see his face again.


	7. Chilling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back to dark today

Remember my awful [idea](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/624130250220191744/soguess-who-just-had-an-awful-idea-not-awful)? It’s coming back~

* * *

Joey Drew was very particular about how his living version of Alice Angel behaved. He always seemed to find some fault with her behavior, something she wasn’t doing right. 

Alice was a happy character! She needed to smile! None of this brooding that the living version seemed so prone to.

Alice was a social creature! She liked being around people! She shouldn’t go and hide with the failed copy of Bendy any chance she got. Being compassionate was one thing, but this Alice was going out of her way to avoid people.

“Give her a break,” the other employees kept saying. “She’s doing the best she can.”

The way the other employees saw it, Alice was just having a hard time adjusting to the real world and Joey was being far too hard on her. They tried to defend and take care of her whenever they saw Joey berating her for not acting “right”.

“She’s just a kid,” they said. “She’s doing her best. This world’s new to her.” 

They didn’t see the way Alice’s eyes seemed to glaze over whenever they said this, nor the malicious glee in Joey’s. 

Each time an employee stepped up, Joey would smile and apologize, blaming stress. And each time he was believed. 

After all, his most insidious actions were done when no one else was around.

.

Cordelia had known Joey Drew was a monster prior to finding herself in her current state, but she hadn’t been prepared for just how horrifying he could truly be. 

Before, she’d been a human being under his employ. He’d been limited in what he’d been capable of doing to his employees. But now…Cordelia wasn’t a human being anymore. Joey could do whatever he wanted and no one could stop him.

When he didn’t think she was smiling enough, he would grab her face and manipulate the ink that made it up to force her to have a permanent smile. She’d considered figuring out how to undo it, but she knew that would only make things worse if she did. 

When she angered Joey, he would use acetone on her. He didn’t pour it all over her, because she was perfect and he didn’t want to mar her, but there were still many things he could do to her. Most often he would dip one or more of her limbs in acetone and leave her to suffer until he thought she’d “learned her lesson”. 

There was nothing quite so horrifying as watching her limbs slowly melt and feeling the searing pain that came along with the usage of the acetone.

What was most chilling about his “punishments” was the detachment with which Joey performed them. Unless “Alice” had managed to piss him off to an absolutely royal degree, Joey carried out these unspeakable horrors with a smile on his face. 

A smile that never reached his eyes. 

Those dead eyes….as cold and lifeless as a corpse.

She’d only seen him truly angry once.

It had been shortly after she’d woken up from the transformation. Joey had been genuinely delighted, gushing about what a perfect Alice she was. And then she’d opened her mouth and ruined everything by being horrified. As he’d continued to insist that she was Alice and she’d continued to insist she wasn’t, she’d watched his patience begin to wear thin.

Finally he’d snapped, grabbing her and lifting her up.

“You are Alice Angel,” he’d growled, rage written plain across his features. “Keep insisting otherwise and you won’t like what happens next.”

She’d just nodded, too scared to do anything else.

That had been the only time she’d ever seen his smile fall thus far and she hoped it wouldn’t happen again.

She’d tried to be more careful after that. If she was going to get out of the studio and back to her brother, she was going to have to be as sneaky as possible.


	8. Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's cute again.  
> Charlie returns!

“Charlie, come back in, dinner is ready!”

Charlie’s head appeared from the snowbank in Henry’s backyard, a tiny brown speck among the sea of white. They were in their cat form, since they found it more fun to frolic about in the snow without the burden of heavy winter clothing. 

They were staying at the Stein household for a few days while their parents were on a business trip. Charlie had initially been a little nervous at being away from their parents, partially worrying that they wouldn’t come back, but they were starting to have a lot of fun.

“Dinner’s ready,” Henry repeated with a smile.

Charlie disappeared under the snow once more, only to appear on the doorstep and scramble inside and into the guest bedroom. After a few minutes, they reappeared wearing their pajamas.

Henry, Linda, and their daughters were waiting at the table, already seated. Abigail and Sarah were arguing about the fact that Sarah had borrowed Abigail’s best stockings and now couldn’t find them.

Charlie liked Sarah and Abigail. They were both older than Charlie, which made the sisters infinitely cool in their eyes, and really smart. Also, they liked dressing Charlie up and Charlie liked being dressed up.

“I made soup,” Linda announced as Charlie sat down beside Sarah.

“What kinda soup?” Charlie tilted their head to the side.

“Matzo ball soup,” Abigail answered. “It’s the best.”

“Make sure you get some matzo balls before Abby does, ‘cause she’ll eat them all if you let her,” Sarah said in what was likely supposed to be a conspiratorial whisper but was plainly audible to everyone at the table.

“You eat them all too!” Abigail shoved her sister. Sarah responded by shoving her back.

“Girls.” Linda gave them a warning look and they stopped, mumbling an apology. 

“Here you go.” Henry passed Charlie a bowl of soup, which they gladly accepted.

They stared into the bowl, watching the matzo balls bob about and drinking in the lovely smell. Even though they’d been living with Susie and Sammy for a year now, the little luxuries still made them so happy.

They gathered up a spoonful of the soup, blew on it to cool it down, then popped it into their mouth. 

“Do you like it?” Sarah asked, peering expectantly past her sister. 

“You’re going to freak them out with your staring,” Abigail chided her. 

“It’s good!” Charlie said with a grin before leaning down and starting to loudly slurp their soup, burning their tongue a bit in the process.

“Well, that seems like a pretty glowing endorsement,” Henry couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m honored.” Linda laughed as well, smiling softly at the child seated across from her. She was glad they were feeling better. They’d been so anxious when they’d first been dropped off. 

“Can I have more?” Charlie asked once they’d finished their bowl. 

“Me too!” Sarah held out her bowl.

“Alright, hold on you two.” Henry got up to ladle out some more soup to Sarah and Charlie.

Once they had their soup, Charlie began to eat again, a bit slower this time so as to savor the flavor more. They couldn’t wait to tell their parents about this when they got back.


	9. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return once again to the Chaos-verse

The former employees of Joey Drew Studios had a…complex relationship with mirrors. Some couldn’t get enough of seeing their faces again, while other flinched at the sight of their reflections.

Buddy, for instance, spent all the time he could in front of the mirror, reveling in the fact that the face he saw in the glass was his once more. He spent ages staring into the glass, eagerly cataloging every detail in an attempt to etch his face into his memory. 

_He’d forgotten what he looked like while trapped in that place, in that body. He didn’t want to forget again._

His human face also reassured him. If he was human then this wasn’t a dream. He was finally out. It was finally over. Even if some voice in the back of his mind said that it _would_ be just like Joey to lull him into a false sense of security before yanking the rug out from under him.

Tom didn’t spend as much time looking in the mirror as Buddy did, but he did smile whenever he caught sight of his reflection. He’d never paid much attention to his appearance before. After all, most of the time he was just going to end up dirty and sweaty anyway. But now…He actually found himself enjoying spending time on looking good.

Susie and Sammy avoided looking in the mirror when they could. Both feared what they would see if they dared to glance. What if those monsters were what stared back at them? What if those monsters were what they **truly** were?

Doubts constantly plagued their minds.

Stripped of his memories, Sammy had become that crazed Prophet. He’d done so many awful things, hurt so many of his friends. He’d tried to kill Henry. He couldn’t forgive himself for that.

Even with her memories and knowledge of the events that had led to the studio downfall, Susie had still chosen to become that tyrant. She’d **known** the other inhabitants of the ruined studio had been her friends. So why had chosen to hurt them that way?

Part of them felt like they didn’t deserve to be normal again. They didn’t deserve to look in the mirror and see their ordinary faces.

Allison didn’t look in the mirror an abnormal amount, nor did she avoid it as some did. But sometimes when she looked in the mirror…she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Her memory issues led to a disconnect between what she saw in the mirror and what she saw in her mind. While she knew logically that she was Allison Pendle, she didn’t always _feel_ like Allison.

But that didn’t have much to do with the mirror. Not exactly


	10. Mechanic

Wally wasn’t Tom’s first choice for an assistant mechanic.

The kid was a surprisingly good mechanic if he applied himself, but the operative word there was _if_. 

Wally didn’t _like_ doing difficult mechanical work, nor did he like being dragged away from his usual routine of kind of cleaning and generally fucking around. He never seemed to pay any attention whenever Tom tried to explain how to maintain the various ink pipes. 

Tom would very much have liked to just give up on trying to educate the janitor, but he needed an assistant mechanic and Wally was his only real option. GENT couldn’t send him any backup and Joey wasn’t about to hire any new mechanics. So it was Wally or nothing. 

“He’s not a bad kid,” Lacie said when Tom brought up his frustrations to her. 

The two of them hung out to drink and complain sometimes, since they both had similar frustrations with their coworkers not understanding machines or general safety measures.

“I _know_ he’s not a bad kid, he’s just….” Tom sighed heavily. “Frustrating.”

“Yeah, he has that effect on people.” Lacie couldn’t help but smirk.

“I just wish he’d try to take this more seriously,” Tom continued, taking a swig from his beer. “It’s just so frustrating.”

“He’s young. Young people are dumbasses,” Lacie replied matter-of-factly.

Tom snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“Be patient with him,” Lacie said, reaching out to pat Tom’s shoulder. 

“I’ll try.” Tom nodded.

The next morning, when Tom came into work, he found Wally fixing the pipes. Fixing the pipes in exactly the way Tom had shown him. 

“You’re doing a good job there, Franks,” Tom said, walking up behind them. 

“Thanks.” Wally barely looked up. “Miss Susie was sayin’ Sammy’s office was flooded again and it was makin’ her real sad, so I thought I’d fix it up.”

“That was nice of you.”

“Miss Susie’s good to me,” Wally said with a small smile. “It’s always worth it to see her smile.”

“Well, you’re doing great.” Tom patted Wally on the back. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Just doin’ my job.” Wally spun his wrench in what was likely an attempt to look cool, but ended with him hitting himself in the face. 

Tom smiled and shook his head. Some things never changed.


	11. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this does have a lot of mentions of murder and violence  
> Joey has made bad decisions

There had to be some way for him to save this, Joey thought to himself as he sat in his office, surrounded by unpaid bills and bankruptcy notices.

There had to be a way to fix this.

It couldn’t have all been for nothing.

All the people he’d killed, all the horrible things he’d done…. It had to have been for _something_. 

Unbidden, the memories of those horrible things flooded his mind, as they often did in his darkest moments. 

Susie in her cage, screaming curses at him while trying to grab at him from between the bars. The longer he’d kept her locked away, the angrier she’d become. He’d promised her she’d be perfect. But he’d failed her. And he couldn’t accept failure.

Norman and Jack, both killed in quick succession to protect the secret of Susie’s fate. Norman’s head bashed in, Jack drowned in the ink. Norman had seen Susie in her cage and Joey couldn’t let that get out. Jack had seen him disposing of Norman’s body, which had meant he’d had to go too. Killing them had made Joey feel sick. But it had to be done. 

The haunted look in Sammy’s eyes after Joey had forced him to help in disposing of Jack’s body. He shouldn’t have forced Sammy to aid him. Like Joey, he’d had a downward spiral after Jack’s death. But he didn’t have Joey’s single-minded desire to succeed at all costs. He was…breaking. He was _still_ breaking.

Lacie, Bertram, Grant, and Shawn all killed in a panic. He barely remembered the act of killing them, only standing amidst their bodies, his hands covered in blood. No matter how many times he washed his hands, the blood never seemed to come off.

Their suffering had to have some meaning. 

Or…no. 

He had to fix this. 

He _could_ fix this.

He could give them bodies again. Their souls were already in the ink. If he could just figure out how to make the ink forms perfect then everything would be alright. 

He just needed to do a little more research. He could give them their bodies back and the studio would thrive again. They would all be alive and happy. He would fix things. He would succeed. 

“I just need to make things right,” he told himself as he pulled out his notes. “I can fix this.”


	12. Ring

Norman Polk was a bit of an enigma to most of the employees at Joey Drew Studios. He didn’t talk much and always seemed to appear when you least expected him to. Very few people in the studio knew anything about him. 

It didn’t help that Norman had a tendency of fucking with people by giving vague responses or insinuating that he was, in fact, a cryptid.

After a certain point, most of the other employees just stopped asking about Norman’s life because they knew he probably wasn’t going to give a straight answer.

There were only a handful of people who _could_ get a straight answer out of him. And one of those was Susie Campbell.

Which was what led to the conversation that occurred in the projection booth that day. 

Susie had been in the projection booth with Norman, filing her nails and talking to him about whatever popped into her mind. She liked spending time with Norman because he gave good advice and was a good listener. Currently, he was taking apart a watch that had been in the lost and found for nearly a year in the hopes that he could get it working again. 

As he leaned over the watch, squinting at the small parts, something slipped out from under his shirt.

“What’s that?” Susie asked, pointing to the band of gold on a chain around Norman’s neck.

“It’s my wedding ring,” Norman replied, tucking the necklace back under his shirt. “It’s easier to wear it on a chain so I don’t lose it.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were married!” Susie gasped, clapping her hands together. 

“Yep. Coming on 40 years now.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Susie exclaimed, her whole face lighting up. “You must love her a lot.”

“I do.” He smiled softly, his free hand reaching to touch the outline of the ring under his shoulder.

Susie couldn’t help but smile as well.

“What’s her name?” She asked, scooting her chair closer.

“Her name’s Mary. Hang on, I’ve got a picture.” Norman put down his tools, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. Inside was a folded up photograph which he unfolded to show to Susie. 

“This is Mary,” he pointed to the woman standing beside him in the photograph. “This is my eldest, Helen, Elias is the middle kid, and Nick’s the baby.”

Susie nodded along, looking where Norman pointed. The photograph depicted Norman and Mary standing next to each other, with an older girl standing beside Mary, a small boy standing beside Norman, and a baby in Mary’s arms. Judging from the wear and tear on the photo, as well as the lack of wrinkles on Norman’s face, it was likely a rather old photo.

“She was the one who proposed, you know,” Norman said, smiling fondly at the photograph. “Surprised the Hell out of me, but saying yes was the best decision I ever made.”

“Good for her.” Susie nodded approvingly, folding her arms. “I always thought it was stupid that everyone says men need to be the ones to propose.”

Norman chuckled. “It certainly does seem silly. Anyway,” he folded the photograph up again and put it back into his wallet. “We should both get back to work.”

“My break’s probably over by now,” Susie agreed, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“See you.” Norman inclined his head in her direction as she left.


	13. Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of heated discussions between Joey and those around him.  
> Warning: This gets really dark

“I just can’t do this anymore, Joey. I’m sorry.” 

“Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it,” Joey begged. “You don’t have to leave.” His chest felt tight as he looked between Henry and the resignation that had been placed on his desk.

“You can’t fix this, Joey,” Henry said. He looked tired in a way Joey hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the usual fatigue or exhaustion of 

“I can!” Joey insisted, slamming his hands on the table. “I need you, Henry!”

“That’s the problem!” Henry snapped. “You need me too much! I’ve basically been doing the work of the entire Art Department by myself!”

“Then I’ll hire more people!” Joey said, hope welling up in his chest. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. I’ll do better, I promise!” 

He could fix this. Everything would be alright.

“That’s not the only problem here,” Henry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“What else could there be?” A slight whine entered Joey’s voice.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Joey.”

“What are you talking about?” Joey stiffened, his metaphorical shields going up at the insinuation of supposed incompetence. 

“You’ve never run a business before and you have no idea how to handle money,” Henry answered. “You can’t keep this up long-term.”

There was a long moment of silence, Henry watching Joey and Joey turned his gaze down to his desk. His hands had formed into fists and his whole body had begun to shake. 

“Get out,” he whispered. 

“What?”

“Get out!” Joey yelled, looking up at Henry with tears in his eyes. “You don’t want to be a part of this anymore? Fine! Get out of here! I can do this myself!”

Henry just watched Joey. He looked…disappointed. Then, without another word, he turned and left the office. 

Joey collapsed into his chair, beginning to cry. 

.

“You killed him! You monster, you killed him!” 

“Susie, please.” Joey put his hands up in an attempt to placate the transformed woman before him, but it did nothing.

“You’re a bastard! He didn’t need to die!” Susie screamed, slamming against the bars of her cage in an attempt to get at Joey.

“I couldn’t let him tell the others about you,” Joey insisted. Even as he spoke, though, he knew his defense made no sense.

“Because I’m not perfect.” Susie laughed derisively. “Of course. It all makes perfect sense.” Her face twisted in a sneer and she spat on his shoes. “You’re a heartless bastard, Drew.”

“I just need to keep you hidden until I can find a way to fix your face,” Joey said, taking a step back to get out of spitting range. “Once you’re perfect, everyone can see you.”

“And Norman’s death will have been for nothing.” Susie stared at him through her bars. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

He wasn’t. And he probably never would be.

.

“Mr. Drew?”

Joey looked up from his paperwork, his heart sinking when he saw the figure in his doorway. Norman’s eldest child stood before him, everything about her immaculate and coiffed. Her hair was curled, her makeup was done, and she had come in her perfectly pressed Sunday best. 

But there was a fragility to Helen’s perfect appearance, as though at any moment she might crumble apart. Her hands shook as she held her clutch purse and her eyes looked red, as though she’d been crying.

“Ms. Polk!” Joey’s voice went up an octave as he stumbled to his feet. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I know you did something to my daddy,” Helen said. 

Joey’s whole body felt cold, his chest tight as he forced out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.” An edge entered Helen’s voice as he grip on her purse tightened. “The last place anyone saw him was here. I know you did something.”

Joey said nothing, standing up a bit straighter. She couldn’t prove anything. He knew she couldn’t.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to go to the police,” Helen said. “I know exactly how it’s going to go. They’d laugh me out of the station, say my daddy just ran off. They wouldn’t look for him. No one will. No one but my family.”

She took a deep shaking breath, tears well up in her eyes. “Because of you, my daddy’s gone and my mama’s heart is broken. So I hope whatever you’re doing is worth it.” There was a quiet venom in her words as she stared him down. 

Joey didn’t reply. There was nothing he could say that would make this situation better. So he said nothing.

Without another word, Helen turned and walked out, leaving Joey alone with his thoughts. 

.

“Are you alright, Sammy?”

Sammy stopped his pacing, turning to stare at Joey. He looked horrible, frankly speaking. His usually pristine appearance had given way to a disheveled madness. His clothing was rumpled and stained with ink, his hair was wild, his eyes bloodshot and manic. 

“Am I alright?” He repeated. “Am I alright?!” His voice rose with every word as he stalked up to Joey’s desk.

“Well, **are** you?” Joey asked, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too much. 

“Of course I’m not fucking okay!” Sammy screamed, slamming his hands on the desk. “You made me help dispose of the body of my best friend! How am I supposed to deal with that?!”

“Just don’t think about it,” Joey said, as though he hadn’t laid awake every night since thinking about the lives he’d ended that night and Helen’s words about the state of her family.

“Oh don’t pretend you’re handling this any better than I am,” Sammy sneered, leaning in close.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Joey replied, surreptitiously sliding one of his desk drawers closed. 

“The empty liquor bottles Wally’s been cleaning up say otherwise.” Sammy leaned over the desk to pull the drawer open again, revealing a collection of liquor bottles in various stages of emptiness. 

“I’m handling it,” Joey snapped back, pushing Sammy away and slamming the drawer closed once more.

“Not well, clearly.” Sammy dusted off the front of his shirt. 

“I’m handling it,” Joey repeated through gritted teeth. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Sammy narrowed his eyes, turning on his heel and storming out without another word.

Joey slumped back in his chair, opening his liquor drawer and taking out one of the mostly full bottles. Popping the cap off, he began to drink, hoping it would make the thoughts go away.

.

It was all falling apart. First Bertram and Lacie wanted to leave and now Grant was going the same way. 

“Please, Grant, you can’t go,” Joey begged, grabbing at Grant’s sleeves. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Joey!” Grant shook him off, continuing to pack up his office. 

“But I need you!” It was like Henry all over again. He couldn’t lose him. He needed _someone_ to manage the money. He was awful at it. He **knew** he was awful at it. He couldn’t lose Grant. Not when things were already going so badly.

Grant paused, looking back at Joey with the eyes of a man who hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. “Do you? Do you _really_ need me?”

“Of course.” 

“Then why didn’t you listen to me?” Grant yelled, all his anger boiling over. “I’ve been bringing up to my concerns for _years_ , Joey. Years!” He began to gesticulate wildly. “But instead of listening, you either outright ignored everything I said or yelled at me because you didn’t like what you heard! And now the studio’s failing! It’s **been** failing for a long time now!”

“I can fix this, Grant. I can! I just need you to stay,” Joey begged.

Grant sighed, shaking his head. “It’s a little late for that. You’re too far in the hole to dig your way out now. At the rate you’re going, you’ll have to file for bankruptcy within the year.” He paused, putting a hand on Joey’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Joey, but I’m not going down with this ship.”

Then he turned back and continued packing up.

Joey stared at him. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. 

Grant couldn’t leave. 

He couldn’t. 

He had to keep him here. 

**He couldn’t let the studio fail.**


	14. Arch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey isn't fond of the high society parties his parents drag him to, least of all when they involve Nathan Arch

Nathan Arch was dumb and mean and Joey didn’t want to play with him anymore. Unfortunately for him, he was always being forced to spend time with Nathan due to his parents friendship with the Arches. 

“I don’t wanna go to Nathan’s dumb party,” he whined as they drove toward the Arch’s mansion at the edge of town.

“I know you don’t like him, Joey, but it would be rather rude to decline his invitation,” Ethan said, reaching out and adjusting his son’s already crooked bowtie. “Especially when he specifically asked for you.”

They’d all gotten dressed up to attend the party as it was hardly a mundane birthday party. The Arches were prominent members of high society and attending a party at their residence required a certain amount decorum and adornment. The Drews weren’t as wealthy as the Arches, but they were still members of high society.

“He just wants me there so he can make fun of me!” Joey protested, stamping his feet. 

“We won’t stay the whole time, dear,” Miriam assured him. “Just long enough to mingle a little.”

Joey groaned, slumping back in his seat. Beside him, Esther was silent, just staring out the window. She hated these parties just as much as him, but Joey had never understood why. She didn’t have to be around Nathan and there were always guys talking to her.

They arrived at the mansion a few minutes later, the driver stopping the car and letting them out in front of the massive staircase leading to the front door.

“Remember, you don’t have to be nice, you just have to be polite,” Ethan said as they ascended the stairs. 

“Yes, Dad,” Esther and Joey said together. 

“And if you think you’re about to have a breakdown, make sure to excuse yourself,” Miriam added. “Once you’ve recovered, come find us.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Good.” Miriam and Ethan exchanged a glance, steeling themselves as if soldiers preparing for war. Miriam slid her slender arm through her husband’s larger one and all four of them stood up straighter. 

The doors were opened and they were greeted by none other than Nathan Arch. He looked like a child from an advertisement. His brown hair was combed and parted, his little suit pressed and perfect, and he had a smile on his adorably cherubic face. But Joey knew a cold and cunning mind lurked behind those rosy cheeks and sweet smile.

“Hello, Nathan,” Ethan smiled politely. 

“Hello, Mr. Drew,” Nathan responded sweetly, although he kept his gaze on Joey. “Hello, Joey.”

“Hello, Nathan…” Joey mumbled, trying to resist the urge to hunch his shoulders.

“We’re going to go say hello to your parents, Nathan,” Miriam said. “Esther, could you watch your brother?”

“Of course.” Esther visibly brightened. 

Miriam kissed Joey’s head and she and Ethan departed for the ballroom to mingle with the other guests, leaving Esther and Joey alone with Nathan. 

The party ended up going about as well as Joey had expected. Nathan was polite on the surface, but as usual had an undertone of condescension and superiority. Esther kept things from getting too out of hand, but Joey did end up snapping at Nathan more than once. Nathan received his outbursts with amusement, the way he always did.

Joey was in a bad mood when they left, but any disasters had been avoided. He was given a reward when they got home for going to the party and putting up with Nathan, which made him feel better.


	15. Poisoning

So this was in my drafts because of [this](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/622823761786372096/now-i-wanna-story-where-norman-tries-to-help-sammy) ask, and I decided to repurpose it for day 15, Poisoning. 

I apologize if this depiction of addiction is insensitive. 

* * *

Norman had been the first to notice Sammy’s downward spiral, and so was the first to offer him a helping hand. 

Norman and Sammy had been close in the past. One might have even called them friends. But since Susie and Jack’s disappearances, they had begun to drift apart. Sammy had been distancing himself from everyone he’d previously considered friends. 

This had, of course, worried Norman greatly.

Norman saw everything, after all. He’d seen Sammy withdrawing, seen how irritable he’d become with literally everyone, seen the dead look developing in his once clear and sharp eyes. He’d known that _something_ was going on. He just wasn’t sure what.

Until he’d seen Sammy drinking ink.

Then it had all clicked.

It had all made sense. The irritability, the drawing away, the dead look in his eyes. Not to mention the inky black patches on his skin that Sammy tried so hard to hide.

“I don’t need your help,” Sammy spat when Norman brought it up.

“Too bad,” Norman replied. “You’re gonna get it.”

And he did. 

No matter how many times Sammy told Norman to go away, to leave him be, Norman remained by Sammy’s side. He tried to get rid of the ink whenever he saw Sammy drinking it, but he couldn’t always be there. Sammy was good at finding places to hide.

Thankfully, Norman had some allies in his fight. Allies who knew Sammy’s hiding places. 

Wally, by the nature of his job and his miraculous ability to be in the wrong place in the wrong time knew quite a few of Sammy’s hiding spots, having stumbled into them more than once. He and Sammy didn’t always get along, but he worried about the music director.

Tom on the other hand offered a more broad knowledge of the studio, pointing out places where Sammy _could_ hide. While he didn’t necessarily like Sammy, he didn’t want to see the music director hurt himself. 

“So, he’s got his sanctuary, yeah?” Wally said as the three of them were hunched over a map of the studio. “But you can always tell when he’s in there ‘cause he’s gotta kick the whole department out for that. And there’s his office, but, y’know, you can tell when he’s in there too.”

“These are good hiding places.” Tom circled a few areas. “Not too far from the Music Department and mostly dry.”

“Oh! I’ve seen him here!” Wally pointed to one area. 

Norman nodded, making a note of the most likely places Sammy would be. “Thank you, I think this’ll really help.”

“Hey, uh, make sure he’s okay. Okay?” Wally said as Norman began to walk away. 

“He needs help,” Tom agreed quietly.

“I’m gonna do my best,” Norman assured them with a small smile.

Using the information he’d gained from Wally and Tom, Norman’s success in tracking down Sammy whenever he disappeared to get his ink fix increased immensely, which only served to frustrate Sammy further.

“Why do keep doing this?” Sammy snapped after the 7th or 8th time that Norman had interrupted his attempts to drink ink.

“I told you,” Norman said. “I’m not letting you go through this alone.”

“But why?” Sammy demanded. “Why do you care? It’s none of your business!”

“I care about you,” Norman replied. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to see you suffer.”

“But why?! I’m a monster!” Sammy screamed. 

He all but fell apart, collapsing to his knees and beginning to sob. There was ink dribbling from his mouth and the black patches on his body seemed to be bleeding through his shirt in places. 

Norman knelt beside him, enfolding Sammy in a hug. 

“You’re not a monster,” He whispered.

“But I am!” Sammy insisted, attempting to struggle away. “It’s my fault Susie and Jack are gone! I helped kill them!”

Norman wasn’t sure whether he was being figurative or literal and was not about to unpack all that right that moment. Whatever was going on, Joey had probably been behind it anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” Norman repeated, holding Sammy tighter. “The fact that you’re feeling this much guilt proves it. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

Sammy began to cry harder, clinging to Norman as though he were a lifeline. 

“I’m not going to abandon you,” Norman murmured. 

He wasn’t going to let Sammy poison himself like this. Especially not when it had clearly been Joey’s fault to begin with. 

Helping Sammy through his addiction got a bit easier after that, with Sammy for the most part attempting to cooperate. It remained an overall difficult task however, due solely to the nature of it. 

But Norman wasn’t about to give up.

And so, slowly, he began to drag Sammy out of the hole he’d found himself in.


	16. Vision

This takes place post Henry saving everyone.

* * *

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to read, what does it look like?” Joey replied, not looking up from the book he’d been attempting to read. He had the book held so close to his face that his nose was smushed into the pages and yet he was still squinting. 

Esther snorted, but attempted to keep a straight face. “Remind me how old you physically are?”

Joey lowered the book, glaring at her. Or maybe he was just squinting. “44. Why?”

“I think you might need glasses, Joey.”

“Wha-? That’s ridiculous!” Joey sputtered, putting the book down. “I’ve had perfect vision my whole life!”

“Old people like us need glasses,” Esther replied, unable to keep a smug smirk from spreading across her features. “Our eyesight goes as we get older.”

Joey looked like he _wanted_ to argue, opening and closing his mouth a few times before finally closing it again.

“Fine…” He sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

“Fine what?” Esther asked, attempting once more to stifle laughter. 

“Fine, I’ll get glasses,” Joey said. “Or I’ll get checked to see if I need them. You’re right. I need to check.”

Esther’s expression softened a bit. She could remember a time when Joey would have dug in his heels and refused to admit he was wrong. She hoped this growth continued.

“I’ll take you to the optometrist tomorrow,” she said. “I’m probably due for a new prescription too.”

“Are we going to the optometrist?” Rachel stuck her head in.

“Tomorrow,” Esther replied. “Why?”

“Isaac needs new glasses.”

“Guess we can make it a family outing,” Joey said, laughing weakly.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” Rachel entered the living room to flop on the couch beside him. “We still need to get you some new clothes too. You dress like an old man.”

“I **am** an old man.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to _dress_ like one.”

“Gods, I’m gonna look even older with glasses,” Joey groaned, slumping against the couch.

“You’re probably never going to look older than me, if it makes you feel better,” Esther laughed.

An uncomfortable silence descended over the living room as Joey was reminded that he was physically 20 years younger than his sister. She’d die long before he would.

“Thank you again,” Joey whispered. “For….letting me stay.”

Esther smiled softly. “You’re welcome.” She settled beside him, wrapping her arms around him.

She hadn’t wanted to lose him again.

Rachel sat awkwardly, drumming her fingers on the cushions. 

“So….Should we all go to the optometrist tomorrow?” She asked. “Make it a whole outing? Get lunch and stuff?”

“That sounds nice,” Esther said.

Joey nodded. He’d closed his eyes, leaning heavily against Esther. 

“Cool.” Rachel got up. “I’ll go tell Dad and Isaac.”

Then she quickly walked out, leaving Esther and Joey alone.


	17. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lighter chapter

Anthony and Charlotte belong to [@askcharlottewalters](https://tmblr.co/m7mtGbb1wUHfvJBgOAy01Kg)

* * *

Cordelia took her job very seriously. 

Although she knew that many others would look down on her for being a secretary, she considered her job an important one. Especially given Sammy’s…everything. He was a brilliant man but so so strange. His strangeness meant she tried to remain professional and focused as much as she could.

However, she found staying focused especially difficult when she had to interact with Charlotte Walters and Anthony Carter.

Joey Drew Studios was surprisingly full of attractive people and Cordelia found herself developing crushes every other week. While she’d gotten over her crushes on Sammy and Susie, the ones on Anthony and Charlotte didn’t seem to be going away. Especially now that she’d spent some time with Anthony.

She didn’t have to go to the Art Department too often, but whenever she did, she always got distracted from her original task by seeing Charlotte and losing herself in the other woman’s smile. She was able to get herself back on task for the most part, but Charlotte’s laugh made her brain short-circuit.

She had to see Anthony more since Sammy composed music for the radio show, so she was able to handle being around him more. But any compliment or flirty look still completely derailed her train of thought.

“I can’t do this, Susie,” Cordelia groaned, resting her head on the breakroom table. 

“I don’t know, I think you’re doing just fine,” Susie replied. “You’re still doing your work and staying professional.”

“But I can’t focus!” Cordelia turned her head so that she was facing Susie. “Whenever they do _anything_ my mind just goes blank! I can’t focus!” She turned her head again so that she could scream into the table.

“Oh, honey,” Susie sighed and patted her back. “If it’s really bothering you that much, then maybe you should talk to them. Admit you have feelings for them.” 

Cordelia went quiet. Susie could see that the other woman’s ears were starting to turn red, which meant Cordelia’s face had to be even redder. 

“I don’t know what would be worse,” Cordelia mumbled. “If they didn’t feel the same way or if they did.”

“Why would it be worse if they did?” Susie frowned slightly.

“‘Cause then they’d….well….” Cordelia trailed off, starting to make a high pitched noise.

“They’d what?” 

“There’d be…hand holding and…. _kisses_.” Cordelia covered her face with her hands. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about holding hands and snuggling with Charlotte and Anthony.

Susie couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, sweetheart. You are adorable.”

“Okay…Okay, I need to calm down.” Cordelia took a few deep breaths, fanning her face in an attempt to make it less red. “I should get back to work.” She got up, starting toward the door. 

“Try not to get distracted by thinking about smooching!” Susie called after her in a sing-song voice. 

Cordelia squeaked and started walking faster.


	18. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another darker chapter

It had too many teeth.

Bendy wasn’t supposed to have teeth. At least not like this.

His smile was supposed to be one uniform piece. Stylized and simplified. 

You weren’t supposed to be able to see each individual tooth, defined and shining as it smiled that unchanging smile, too wide to be natural.

Its smile was too human. 

Looking at it made a person feel…. _wrong_. 

There was something unnatural about the creature. 

Something about it made a voice in the back of one’s mind scream out that the thing they were looking at wasn’t _right_.

It shouldn’t exist. 

Joey hated it. It was an abomination. He’d wanted a living copy of Bendy. Not this horrifying creature. 

~~He was scared if he got too close it would bite his hand off.~~

~~That mouth was so wide….It could have swallowed him whole if it had wanted to.~~

It was better to keep it locked away. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

No could ever truly put it from their mind, though. 

They saw that smile when they closed their eyes.

All those teeth…


	19. Entertainment

Today’s prompt is entertainment, so I decided to use this post that’s been in my drafts for ages about what the ink creatures do in their free time. 

The inspiration was [this ](https://queenofcats17.tumblr.com/post/617062214695813120/what-do-various-ink-creatures-ink-creatures-not)post.

[@marie-lamb-b](https://tmblr.co/m93h9E3jdsCLBCAHrderWIA) also provided some insight on the Butcher Gang.

* * *

The inhabitants of Joey Drew Studios had to be creative when it came to keeping themselves busy. It wasn’t like an abandoned cartoon studio full of monsters had a whole lot in the way of ready-made amusements.

They had to work with what they had to make their own entertainment.

Alice sang and sewed clothes for herself from whatever materials she could find. She couldn’t do a lot with the materials, but it made her feel better. The feeling of the needle sliding through the fabric, the sound of her own humming echoing around the room…It reminded her of better days. It reminded her of when she’d been happy.

Stabbing herself with the needle wasn’t exactly fun, but the pain from that was negligible when compared to the other injuries she’d incurred in the studio.

Singing calmed her down when she was on the verge of losing herself as well. If she closed her eyes and just…focused on the music, it was like nothing else existed. Everything was fine. **She** was fine. If she closed her eyes, she could picture her home, her parents. She wondered if they missed her.

Sammy spent a lot of time by himself. Despite being the leader of a large cult of Lost Ones and Searchers, he was still an intensely introverted person who needed a lot of alone time to maintain his sanity and not yell at his flock. He holed up in his Sanctuary to compose or write, occasionally with Jack accompanying him when he was having trouble with certain lyrics. 

Sammy didn’t often play music given that his inky form didn’t interact well with strings. But if he concentrated very hard he could hold himself together long enough to play the banjo. The Lost Ones could sometimes coax him into playing and singing for them, but it took a lot of begging. 

It always soothed them to hear him sing. His voice was high and clear, filling their hearts with feelings and memories they’d long forgotten. Those memories were gone once he finished playing, but the feelings remained. 

Sammy had taught a few of the Lost Ones to play instruments as well and they’d managed to smuggle said instruments to the village in order to practice. It provided quite a bit of entertainment for those who weren’t practicing, because there was something inherently funny about watching someone made of ink trying to figure out how to play an instrument without covering it in ink as well. Or clogging the internal components with ink.

The Lost Ones set up games in their village on occasion, although it took time and preparation, so if they wanted to play a game they had to decide in advance. They would set up towers of soup cans and usually use balls of wax to try and knock the towers down. Or they’d just build the towers in the first place. It kept them busy and it was actually rather fun. 

Allison and Tom similarly utilized the soup cans for their own games. They had access to more materials and a smaller space, so their games looked a bit different than those the Lost Ones played. A lot of theirs involved the fish tank. There were also times when Tom would lay his head in Allison’s lap while she sang. It reminded him of their life outside the studio. Even if she didn’t remember it, it made him happy.

The Borises enjoyed playing instruments, even if the majority of them didn’t last long enough to play any truly beautiful music. Still, playing gave them some modicum of comfort before their ultimate deaths. 

The Boris occupying the safehouse spent his time playing the pinball game he’d found in the wall and doodling. He didn’t venture out too often due to the Ink Demon’s tendency to jump scare him. The Ink Demon’s favorite past-time was scaring the other inhabitants of the studio, after all.

And then there were those in the Bendyland warehouse. 

Bertram wasn’t able to move, being trapped in a ride and all, so he had to rely on getting entertainment from visitors. He only ever got three, though. 

The Butcher Gang clones bearing the souls of Lacie, Grant, and Shawn often visited him, both to seek shelter and to cheer him up when he got lonely. Lacie fixed up any issues that might have come up while Shawn just sewed away in a corner. 

Edgar was usually the one in control, which meant that when the trio visited he’d usually want to ride in one of Bertram’s carts. Bertram, begrudgingly, would allow this. The little spider’s smile was too cute to resist. Not to mention, it usually calmed Grant down as well.

The only entertainment the Projectionist ever got was watching the cartoons that played in his labyrinth. Sometimes, if he watched long enough, he almost seemed to remember something. It never lasted long. Soon enough, he was back to his endless trudging. 


	20. Paralyzed

Side note: I know Charlie’s condition keeps changing, but it’s mostly because I’m learning more stuff about the condition I’m basing theirs off of, which is EDS.

* * *

Sometimes Charlie’s limbs got paralyzed. 

It was something to do with the connective tissue of their body, they remembered that much. The disorder had always been present from what the doctor had said, but their shapeshifting had exacerbated it to the point that their case was fairly severe.

So, sometimes their limbs just got paralyzed.

It had been a bit scary the first few times it had happened, but the family were dealing with it on a case by case basis.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Susie said, cracking open the door to Charlie’s room. “How are you feeling?”

Charlie groaned, their head poking out from under their nest of blankets. 

“My leg hurts,” they mumbled.

“Mm. Not great, huh?” Susie perched on the edge of the bed. “Do you think you’ll need the wheelchair?”

Charlie shifted again, pushing themselves into a sitting position. “…Maybe.”

“Alright.” Susie made a mental note. “Do you need any help getting dressed?”

“Probably.” Charlie wriggled out from the blanket, swinging their legs over the edge of the bed. They did a few experimental kicks. Only one leg responded. 

Charlie huffed. “Aw beans.”

“Well, I’ll get you your clothes then,” Susie said. “What do you want?”

“Um…My brown skirt, the pink sweater with the kitty on it, my tights with the hearts, and a turtleneck.”

Susie retrieved the clothing, helping Charlie get into them before helping them into the kitchen.

Sammy had made breakfast already and had been about to come looking for them when Susie and Charlie entered.

“Left leg’s paralyzed today,” Charlie announced as Susie set them down in their chair. 

Sammy winced. “Ah. Wheelchair day then?”

Charlie shrugged, digging in to their bowl of oatmeal.

“I’ll get it out after we eat,” Sammy said.

They all began to eat, with Charlie piping up every so often to talk about what they were going to do at the studio. They didn’t have school that day so they would be accompanying their parents to the studio. 

The fact that this was evidently a wheelchair day spent at the studio worried Sammy a bit. Mostly because he knew Charlie would end up racing down the halls in their chair with Bendy to see how fast they could go. 

Once they’d all finished their breakfast and the dishes had been deposited in the sink, they all made their way to the car, stowing the wheelchair in the back.

“When we get to the studio, no chair racing,” Sammy said once they were all in the car. 

“Aw, why not?” 

“Because you’ll end up hurting yourself. Again.” 

“That was once!” Charlie protested. “And I didn’t even break anything!”

“That doesn’t mean you _won’t_ ,” Susie cut in, turning back to look at Charlie. “We don’t want to see you get hurt, sweetheart.”

Charlie pouted a little, but nodded. “Okay…Fine…”

“Thank you.” Sammy offered a small smile and started driving.


	21. Money

Joey was not good with money. 

His parents were wealthy, so he’d never had to worry about it before. Sure, his father had _tried_ to explain finances to him, but Joey had never listened. At the time, it had never seemed particularly interesting to him.

He was beginning to regret that attitude now.

Running a cartoon studio was harder than he’d ever expected it to be. He’d thought he could handle it. He’d watched his father run his department store all the time. Surely he could just copy what he’d seen there. 

Clearly that had been the wrong assumption. 

It was all just so overwhelming. He had to pay for supplies, to fix equipment, to repair the studio, he had to make sure his employees were being paid enough. It just never seemed to end. 

“Joey, I mean in this in the best way I can, but how on Earth have you survived this long?”

“What do you mean?” Joey asked, drumming his fingers on his desk. 

He was having a meeting with Grant to go over the studio’s monthly expense reports and it wasn’t going…well.

“Well.” Grant spread out the tables in front of him. “For starters, you’re spending more money than we’re bringing in.”

Joey’s tapping increased in tempo. Back home whenever he’d wanted something he’d just bought it. He’d never had to worry about _where_ the money was coming from.

“Second, I’m not convinced you know how to budget _at all_.”

“What does that mean?” Joey snapped, shifting into the defensive. 

Grant sighed heavily, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what budgeting is?”

“Of course I know what budgeting is!” Joey yelled, springing up and slamming his hands on the desk. “I’m not stupid!”

Grant was unfazed, calmly putting his glasses back on. “I never said you were _stupid_ ,” he said. “I was asking because I assumed a rich boy like you never had to manage money before.”

Joey stiffened like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. 

How had he known?

“You’re not subtle, Joey,” Grant continued, staring at his boss over the tops of his glasses. “I know you _think_ you’ve hidden your past and you’re leading this double life, but everyone can tell you came from money. Now sit down,” he gestured to Joey’s chair. “And I’ll try to explain how you can properly manage the studio’s finances.”

Joey sat back down, feeling very much like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Now, you need to be more cautious with your spending,” Grant began pointing to different parts of the reports. “Evaluate what you need and what you don’t. You need to have enough to pay for utilities and your employees’ salaries.”

Joey nodded sullenly, but once again, he wasn’t truly listening. His ego had been bruised and he tended to stubbornly shut down when that happened.

He should have listened to Grant.


	22. Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm returning to the Little Angel AU

This wasn’t her voice. 

Not only was this not her body, **_this wasn’t her voice_**.

“I couldn’t very well let you sound like yourself,” Joey had said when she’d broken down, screaming in a voice that wasn’t her own. “People would get suspicious.”

He’d left no room for argument. He’d trotted her out, showing her off to the employees and forcing her to perform one of Alice’s songs using a voice that wasn’t hers. 

Susie had, of course, been delighted when she’d heard “Alice” speak, not knowing the truth behind the living cartoon.

“She sounds just like me!” Susie squealed, sweeping the little angel up in a hug.

“Well, of course she does,” Joey laughed. “Alice needs to sound like her voice actress, after all.” 

The entity that had previously been Cordelia Bell simply hung limply in Susie’s arms. She felt numb, unable to conjure up any ideas to remedy her situation. She couldn’t say anything or else Joey would hurt Susie too. So she said nothing. 

“Are you alright?” Susie asked, holding Cordelia out in front of her. She seemed to have noticed the little angel toon’s silence. 

“She’s still getting used to the real world.” Joey stepped in, reaching to take Cordelia away. “It’s a lot for her to take in.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Susie hugged her tightly. “You must be so overwhelmed!” 

For a moment, Cordelia froze, unsure what to do. Then she began to cry. 

She hated this. 

She hated having to talk.

She hated having to sing. 

This wasn’t _her_. 

It wasn’t **_right_**.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Susie’s voice softened as she held the crying angel to her chest. “There there. It’s going to be alright.”

Cordelia wished she could believe that. 


	23. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to look at the reasons why the Lost Ones and Searchers might follow Sammy.
> 
> And why they might remain loyal to the Prophetess even after she goes off the rails.

It was easy to lose oneself in Joey Drew Studios. 

They were trapped, their lives and bodies stolen away from them. Monsters roamed the halls, eager to rend and tear their inky flesh. 

The malevolent angel with her thirst for thick ink and the hearts of the other inhabitants, the Projectionist with his harsh light and heavy step, the deformed Butcher Gang clones that attacked without thought, the renegade angel and her ferocious Boris who defended what was theirs against all others, even the Ink Demon who took pleasure in watching them scramble about. 

There were so many times when it seemed easier to just give in to despair, to lose oneself to the dark puddles and their well of voices.

They needed something to follow, something to give them hope. Some sort of purpose.

The Prophet gave them that.

He gave them a community, a purpose, a reason to keep going. He’d helped build a town for them, a safe haven, a sanctuary. 

When they fell into despair, he lifted them up, assuring his flock that they would be free one day.

Even if they didn’t all believe in Bendy the same way their Prophet did, it still felt good to believe in something after so long feeling nothing but pain.

“We _will_ escape,” he told them. “Someday, we all will see the sun again.”

And they believed him. 

They had to.

.

“What’s the point of this anymore?” One said to the other while they cowered in their little shack in the village. “The Prophet is gone. His acolyte has lost her mind. We’re doomed.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Their companion asked. 

“Following her is just going to get us hurt! She’s out of control! Ruled by her emotions!” They gestured to the door.

“We can’t just abandon her,” their companion folded their arms. 

“This isn’t about _abandoning_ her!” They got up and began to pace. “There’s no point in following her! We’ll just end up back in the puddles!”

“She’s hurting,” their companion continued, ignoring the pacing and frantic gesturing. “They helped us when we were hurting. We’ll help her now that she’s the one struggling. All we have is each other.”

They were silent, stopping their pacing.

“But what if she hurts _us_?” They whispered. “She’s not the same anymore.”

“Then we’ll come back,” their companion assured them. “But she needs us now.”

“I…I guess you’re right,” they sighed. 

“We’ll help bring her back.”

Their Prophetess was lost and they would help her find her way.


	24. Heart

He was supposed to protect the hearts.

**_She_** had asked him to do it. 

There weren’t many who would try to steal the hearts, but he guarded them all the same. Because she had asked. 

He knew her, even if he wasn’t sure how. Something about her made him feel warm. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe.

When he looked at her, he could almost remember another face. A young woman with a smile like the sun.

She needed the hearts. He didn’t know why. Just that she did.

Maybe it was because her own heart was broken.

She tried to hide it, but he knew she was sad. He could tell. She laughed and postured, but it was an act.

Sometimes she cried when she came to get the hearts. 

She would break down, crying about things he didn’t understand, calling him a name he didn’t remember.

He held her when that happened. It was stiff and awkward. He wasn’t used to holding people anymore. She seemed to appreciate it, though.

He didn’t think he had a heart anymore. 

He wasn’t like her. He was ink and machinery and wires. He broke down and had to be fixed, most often by her. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel the way that she did. 

Still…It made him happy to see her smile.

It almost made him feel like a person again.

.

Alice wished she could give him a heart. 

She wished she could bring back the man who had been like a father to her. 

But she didn’t know enough to execute it properly. She didn’t dare attempt it for fear of losing him even further. 

For now, this was enough.

It had to be.


	25. Sunshine

Takes place in my Chaos universe

* * *

They’d thought they would never see the sun again.

All those years spent in darkness...They had thought they would spend the rest of time like that.

And yet here they were, bathed in sunshine with the wind on their faces and soft grass beneath their feet. 

Henry and Linda had organized a picnic for the former employees to celebrate their escape. They’d made a bunch of food, with the help of some of the former employees, and had gone to a local park and set up some blankets on the ground for people to sit on.

There was an underlying sense of uncertainty among the former employees. Even now, they still worried that this was all a dream. Still, they _were_ enjoying themselves. 

Some perhaps a bit too much.

“Jesus, Wally! Slow down!” Shawn laughed, slapping Wally’s back as the other man shoveled food into his mouth.

Wally tried to say something, but the food in his mouth made it impossible to understand anything he was saying. 

“I guess some things never change,” Sammy sighed as he took a sip of his lemonade. He had a fond smile on his face as he watched Wally, though.

“Small miracle he hasn’t choked to death yet,” Norman snorted.

“He’s not going to choke,” Susie said with a degree of certainty that was honestly a little concerning.

“And... _how_ do you know that?” Sammy asked slowly.

“I helped him practice for eating competitions,” Susie proclaimed proudly. 

“She timed me,” Wally said, having managed to swallow his food. 

Norman quietly snorted. He had witnessed these sessions himself from time to time. It had been pretty funny to watch Wally attempt to scarf down food as quickly as he could while Susie had yelled encouragement.

“You might’ve been a competitor before, but you’re outta practice.” Shawn slapped Wally’s back. “Gotta build yourself back up.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Wally flopped onto Shawn. “But it sucks! I can’t eat like I used to!

“Maybe you could just...slow down and enjoy the food?” Sammy suggested.

“Oh, let him have fun.” Susie swatted at his shoulder.

“If he chokes, he chokes.” Norman shrugged, then eased himself down to the ground to stare up at the sky. 

It was getting late in the day, the sun starting to set. He loved watching sunrises and sunsets. There was something wonderful about the colors changing in the sky.

“Why am I friends with such strange people?” Sammy groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Because you love us.” Jack appeared, wrapping an arm around Sammy’s shoulder and grinning like Bendy himself. 

“I do not.” Sammy’s nose wrinkled. 

“You love us~” Wally sang, his focus now on Sammy.

“The music man _does_ have a heart!” Shawn cackled.

“You’re all terrible,” Sammy said, although there was no venom in his voice. “I despise every last one of you.” 

“Aaaaw, you’re just a secret softie!” Susie cooed, pecking him on the cheek.

Sammy rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile.

The sun dipped lower in the sky and the former employees enjoyed their picnic.


	26. Crying

Inspired by [@disneyphantomlover](https://tmblr.co/mtxWKjFluVA2ChP3UkW9yuw)‘s entry, I’m gonna do some False Protagonists. 

* * *

Cordelia did not cry when Joey told her what he’d done.

As she stared into the eyes of the man who had murdered and twisted her friends and the man she considered family, she did not cry. She watched him, her eyes cold. She looked like a statue, unnaturally stiff and still.

The hardened woman before the amalgamated toon was a far cry from the soft and gentle secretary he had once known.

“So that’s it, then?” She asked, her voice calm and level. 

“ _Yes_ …” Joey nodded slowly. “ _I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-_ ”

“Don’t.” Cordelia cut him off with a single word, her voice barely above a whisper. “While I appreciate that you realized your mistakes and want to make amends…I don’t want to hear it.”

Joey’s heart sank at her response, but he wasn’t surprised. Of course she wouldn’t want to hear his apology. 

And yet she wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t cursing his name. Which almost made it worse. She **should** be yelling. After all he’d done, all the pain he’d caused, why **wasn’t** she screaming?

Cordelia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Joey could hear her counting under her breath as she continued to take deep breaths. Her hands shook in her lap. They’d formed into fists, their tremors betraying the true emotions roiling beneath her cool exterior.

“An apology isn’t going to fix this,” she continued once she’d opened her eyes once more. “There is no reset button. There is no way to put this right. These people are gone and they aren’t coming back.” 

“ _I know._ ” Joey bowed his head. 

Cordelia stared at him. She looked so much older and more tired. Everyone looked more tired nowadays.

“I’m never going to forgive you,” she said. “You took away what little family I had left. You took him away from _Sarah_.”

“ _I know._ ” Joey hunched his shoulders, guilt gnawing at his heart.

“But I’m glad you see that you were wrong.” The barest hint of a smile passed across her features. “It means I don’t have to hate you.”

Before Joey could ask what that meant, Cordelia was standing up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go powder my nose.” 

She was striding out of the room and into the bathroom before he even opened his mouth. He could hear the crying once the door closed and her walls came down. Her screams and wails cut deep, piercing his very soul. 

But he forced himself to sit and listen. This was his punishment. 


	27. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Tom "speaks" it's sign language

Every day in Joey Drew Studios was a fight.

Fighting for food, fighting for survival, fighting his own feelings of despair and hopelessness. It sucked, but Tom had become accustomed to it.

That was just how it was.

You were always fighting _something_.

That was what made the quieter moments special. Just him and Allison, alone in their safe house.

She was singing right now as she painted on the wall. He watched her from where he sat on his cot, smiling softly. He was reminded of waking up early in the morning and hearing her singing while she fixed breakfast.

What he wouldn’t give to see that sight again. Allison in her bathrobe, hair pulled back in a messy braid, her face painted with the early morning light.

“What are you thinking about?” Allison asked. 

Tom jolted back to the present. Allison had sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“You seemed like you were thinking really hard,” she continued.

“Just thinking about the usual,” he replied. 

“Like how you want to get out of here?” Allison said with a small laugh.

Tom stifled a laugh of his own, nodding. 

“It would be nice, not having to fight for my life.” Allison began to play with the fingers on his gloved hand. “I wish I could remember what it’s like.”

Tom’s heart ached. He wanted to tell her everything, tell her all about their life together, about how happy they’d been. But every time he tried...the words just wouldn’t come. And would she even believe him? She didn’t remember him at all.

“There are still a lot of challenges even outside the studio,” he finally settled on saying. “But it’s...nice. I’ll show you someday.”

“Well, aren’t you confident?” Allison laughed, gently bumping his shoulder with hers. 

“I’m not giving up,” Tom said with a small smile. “We’re going to get out of here.”

“We need to have hope.” Allison closed her eyes, leaning fully against him. 

Tom nodded, pulling her closer. Hope was hard for him. It always had been. But for Allison, he was willing to try. 

He had to believe they wouldn’t have to fight for their lives forever. 


	28. Hollow

He’d believe it once, all his talk of dreams. It hadn’t always been talk. 

There had been a time when he had whole-heartedly believed ever word. When it had just been him and Henry, against the world. 

When had it all become…hollow?

Honestly, **everything** felt hollow.

He’d hurt so many people, done so many awful things. Was this even worth it anymore? The studio was failing. **He** was failing.

“Mr. Drew, are you quite alright?”

Joey looked up to see Bertram standing in the doorway to his office. Judging from the papers in his arms, he had more plans to show him.

“Yes, I’m…I’m fine.” Joey attempted to sit up a bit straighter, plastering on a smile. It was so easy to pretend now. 

Bertram raised an eyebrow, closing the door and striding over to Joey. He set the plans aside and leaned on the desk. 

“Surely you don’t think I’m that blind, Mr. Drew.”

“Pardon?” Joey frowned slightly. 

“You are clearly **not** fine,” Bertram said, leaning in closer. 

“What are you talking about?” Joey demanded. He’d been hoping to come off as aggressive and intimidating, but he just sounded tired.

Bertram’s expression softened. “It’s clear you’re not well, Joey. Tell me, what is it that’s troubling you?”

“I thought you hated me. Why the sudden concern?” Joey snapped. 

Joey’s feelings regarding Bertram were…complicated. The park designer reminded him of his father, which meant he simultaneously loathed and loved him. He went out of his way to antagonize the older man, but also craved his approval above all else. Joey hated that part. He didn’t need anyone’s approval, least of all that of someone like his _father_. 

~~He missed his father every day.~~

“Hate is a strong word,” Bertram replied coolly. “I dislike your hollow speeches and talk of dreams, but I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Joey grumbled to himself, sinking further into his chair in a truly impressive slouch.

Bertram gave him a deadpan look. “This is another reason. You’re a grown man and yet you act like a petulant teenager behind closed doors.”

“I’ve got a lot on my plate.” Joey folded his arms. “Give me a break.”

“You’re as bad as my nephew,” Bertram sighed under his breath as he pinched his breath. “Surely you realize you don’t have to take on everything by yourself.” His expression softened again. “You’re allowed to ask for help, Joey.”

This only made Joey want to dig his heels in more. Bertram _pitied_ him. How dare he?!

“I’m handling it,” Joey said through gritted teeth. “I don’t need _anyone’s_ help.”

Bertram said nothing in response, simply staring at Joey with something between disappointment and exhaustion. 

“We can discuss my plans later,” he said, turning away. He left without another word. 

“I _don’t_ need anyone’s help,” Joey repeated to himself.

The words felt hollow.


	29. Despair

The woman who called herself Alice Angel couldn’t always remain stoic.

Although she tried to power through the pain she felt, she couldn’t always remain composed.

There were times when she broke. 

When everything was too much for her. 

When she allowed despair to overtake her as she cursed the people and circumstances that had led her to this point.

Every day in the hellhole of a studio was a nightmare. She was constantly fighting for her life, constantly on her guard. There was no peace. No happiness. She hated her appearance, she hated her voice. She hated everything.

She just wanted to go home. 

Although she prided herself on her memories and keeping herself together, those memories were a double-edged sword. She could remember when things had been better. She could remember what life had been before everything had gone wrong. And sometimes those memories got to her.

When that happened, she sought comfort in the creature that had once been Norman Polk.

It was something like a routine. When she found herself unable to stop the tears, she would board the elevator and make her way down to level 14. All she needed to do was walk up and rest her head against his chest and he would hold her, even if he didn’t seem to remember who she was. 

She knew it wasn’t **really** him. Not anymore. But he still held her like he used to. Admittedly, the speaker in his chest and reel in his shoulder made things a little awkward, but that was a small issue. If she closed her eyes, she could still pretend that everything was normal. That nothing had changed.

She could still picture him in her mind. His kind smile, those warm brown eyes, the way his laugh filled every room.

She wished she could have saved him from this fate. He’d deserved better. 

They all had.


	30. Hope

Joey hadn’t thought things could ever get better for him. 

After all the evil he’d done, the murder, the torment he’d subjected his employees too, he’d genuinely thought he deserved to die.

But despite all that, things _had_ gotten better.

Henry had freed them all from the spell Joey had cast, allowed them to go back to their lives and families. They still had a good deal of trauma from their experiences, but they were getting better. 

_Joey_ was getting better.

“Joey, what do you think of these frames?”

Joey regarded the frames Esther had picked out with a certain degree of distaste. “They look like old man glasses.”

Esther sighed and put the frames back, returning to searching.

“You _are_ an old man,” Rachel laughed, elbowing her uncle in the ribs.

“I don’t _feel_ old,” Joey grumbled, although he couldn’t help but smile.

“Why don’t we just get something simple?” Isaac suggested. He picked up a pair of simple wire frames, holding them out to Joey. 

Joey took said frames, slipping them on and peering at himself in the mirror. 

It was still strange looking at himself nowadays. He seemed somehow...softer. The lines around his eyes and mouth seemed more prominent, the grey streaks in his hair standing out more. He looked so much older than he had when he’d first gotten out. 

Strangely, though, he didn’t mind.

He’d never thought there would be a time when he wasn’t completely consumed by maintaining his appearance.

The wire frames suited him fairly well, giving him an academic air he’d never had before. Combined with the cardigan and tie he was wearing, he looked rather like a librarian or professor. 

“Those look rather good,” Robert remarked as he rejoined the group.

“You look like such a nerd,” Rachel cackled. 

“Well then, that certainly makes him a part of the family.” Esther couldn’t help but laugh.

_Part of the family._

Something about hearing that made Joey’s heart leap with joy.

He was part of a family again.

“So, what do you think, Uncle Joey?” Isaac asked, watching his uncle expectantly. 

“I like these,” Joey said, hoping they wouldn’t hear how his voice shook.

“Alright then. I’ll go pay for then and we can get you some lenses.” Robert held out his hand for the frames, which Joey handed over.

Robert headed off to pay for the frames, leaving Esther to confer with the children about where they wanted to go next. They hadn’t yet had lunch and Isaac was suggesting they do that before doing any more shopping.

Joey was suddenly struck by the desire to cry. Not out of sadness, but out of....happiness.

He had family. He had people who cared about him. 

Things were better. _He_ was better. 

_He was okay._

“Joey? Are you alright?” He came back to reality to see Esther standing in front of him, waving her hand and looking concerned. A few silver strands had escaped from her bun, falling in her face. 

“I’m fine,” he assured her with a small smile. 

And for the first time in a long time, he meant it.


	31. Free Day

Last day and it’s either a Free day or Showdown Bandit. I’m gonna do free day.

Decided I’d finally finish the thing I started about [@insane-control-room](https://tmblr.co/mJlb-vW43NaJNACvfy09WfA)‘s Johan being baby and how my oc Cordelia would immediately get protective as Hell when it came to him.

It ended up becoming emotional.

* * *

Cordelia loved working at Joey Drew Studios.

While she didn’t always love the work she did, she loved the people she was surrounded by. She’d even come to consider her coworkers to be her family. As such, she was incredibly protective of them. Anyone who harmed her family was in for a storm.

Especially when it came to her boss, Johan Ramirez.

About a year into working at the studio, Cordelia had realized that Johan was, in fact, younger than her. He’d been under 18 when he’d started the studio. Almost immediately, Cordelia’s protective instincts had awoken. She tried not to be obvious about her concern for and protectiveness of her young boss, but everyone noticed the change.

Cordelia began regularly leaving the Music Department to check on Johan, making sure he’d eaten and was getting enough sleep and all that. Both Johan and Ray continually assured her that everything was fine and that Ray was looking after Johan. There was a reason Johan kept his face hidden. He couldn’t have his employees hovering over him all the time like this.

Cordelia did back off a bit, but didn’t stop. She kept checking up on him, trying to make sure he was alright.

“He’s your boss,” Roy had said when she’d mentioned her campaign. “You shouldn’t be trying to take care of him.”

“I know,” Cordelia replied, worrying with the ends of her hair. “But…He’s a _kid_. I just don’t feel right leaving him alone.”

“He’s got that doctor guy looking after him,” Roy said. “He’ll be fine.”

“I guess you’re right,” Cordelia conceded.

But she just couldn’t let it go. Johan had been so kind to her and all the other employees. It was only natural that she respond in kind.

She felt like she **had** to pay him back somehow. 

Unfortunately, these attempts on her part were, perhaps, a tad too invasive for her boss’s comfort.

“M-Miss Bell, you really don’t need to do this,” Johan said after she’d dropped by for the second time in the same day. “I do-don’t need you looking after me.” He sounded rather exasperated, which made Cordelia’s face get a bit warm.

“I’m sorry,” she said, smiling sheepishly as she began to play with the hem of her shirt.

“I appreciate your concern, bu-but I’m not a little kid,” Johan continued. “I can ta-take care of myself.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “I just…I’ve come to consider a lot of the people here and…Well…” She looked up, her smile growing even more apologetic. “I guess I can get a little too protective when it comes to my family.”

Johan watched her with a world-weariness that should not have been possessed by someone so young. 

Still, he smiled softly. “I’m glad you’ve found a family here.”

“But I know I shouldn’t have been crossing the lines I did,” Cordelia clarified quickly. “This is work and you’re my boss and I should stay professional.”

Her anxiety was starting to skyrocket and she needed to get out of there. 

**Now**.

So she immediately turned and headed for the door. Johan didn’t stop her, likely sensing her anxiety. 

However, when she reached the door, she stopped, hand on the knob. “I…I know this probably isn’t the best time for this, but I wanted to say thank you,” she said. 

Johan blinked. “Why?”

“I was…in a bad place before I started working here.” Cordelia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Everything felt…really awful. But this place gave me friends. A family. And…I don’t think I’ll ever stop being grateful for that.”

Okay, she’d said her thing. Without another word, she quickly opened the door and retreated, leaving Johan in his office. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, this whole thing was organized by @halfusek and you can check out other contributions on Tumblr.


End file.
